The Almost Wild One
by Archilochus
Summary: After a long absence, Freddie is finally returning to Ridgeway High, determined to win Sam's heart.  Oh, and he's also changed into a total motorcycle-riding leather-bound bad boy to boot.  Well...almost.  But what challenges await our mighty hero?


He gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle as he screamed down the interstate, his leather jacket rippling in the wind while the needle of his speedometer passed seventy, then eighty miles an hour. He gritted his teeth in anticipation. It was hard to believe, but he was finally going back. After all this time, Freddie Benson was returning to Ridgeway.

Freddie leaned slightly to the right as he entered a slow curve. The sun shone brightly overhead, forcing him to squint behind his dark sunglasses. A million thoughts were racing through his mind. He wondered what had changed. Did most of his former classmates still attend Ridgeway High? Did they make any modifications to the building since he was last there? It seemed so long ago. He hadn't set foot there since the day he left.

Glancing down at the dashboard, Freddie took note of the time. Thirty minutes before school started. _Still got a long way to go_. Freddie revved the engine and shot forward, little more than a black blur along the open expanse of road. He had been riding for hours, but now, as he neared his goal, time flew by.

Of course, Freddie could have gotten there in ten minutes if he had just taken the city streets, but he thought the freeway would be more epic.

As he hurtled past the other slower-moving vehicles, one thing more than any other consumed Freddie's mind. While he did wonder about the state of the building, and how the old faces was doing, there was one person in particular he was most anxious to see. _I wonder how she's changed_. _I'll bet she's a woman by now. I wonder what she'll say when she sees me?_

A determined, yet optimistic grin broke out on Freddie's face. He gave the engine even more juice. _Wait 'til she gets a load of this. One order of bad dude comin' up._

_

* * *

_

The crowd of students that had congregated on the parking lot outside of the Ridgeway school building heard the motorbike from a mile away. The rumbling grew louder and louder; it felt like the ground was actually shaking. Everyone started giving each other confused looks.

"What's going on?" asked one of the kids.

"I don't know. Wait...look, over there!"

Finally, the source of all the commotion, the majestic chopper itself roared into view. The students watched in awe as a leather-bound stud ripped fearlessly through the parking lot. Not a single other soul present so much as stirred. The rider zoomed toward an empty space and came to an amazing skidding stop. He quickly hopped off the bike. He ran a comb through his hair. He then began heading in the direction of the school entrance, the chains that hung from his blue jeans jangling as he walked.

"What a hunk," uttered a female bystander. Freddie removed his glasses and bent his upper body backward, letting the sunlight pour onto every inch of his figure. He glowed like some radiant god from the heavens. The glasses went back on and he resumed walking.

"Oh my God," said another girl. The others lent her their attention. "Is that Freddie Benson?"

"No way. That guy's _ripped_. It couldn't be Benson."

Freddie stopped. He glanced at the group of whispering students, who instantly shut-up when they realized this. He was standing right in front of them now. There was an almost electric tension in the air. Freddie observed them coolly for a moment.

"Any of you know where Samantha Puckett is?"

There was a collective gulp at first. After a brief pause, one person timidly stepped forward. "I think she's inside. By the lockers."

Freddie nodded his head. He continued the fateful trek toward the double-doors, assured now that she awaited behind them.

"Hey." Freddie turned around so that his profile was visible. A long scar ran down from his eye past his lower lip. "Are you...Freddie Benson?" Freddie's face remained unchanging.

"Used to be." With that, he left them. The others shook their heads in admiration, boys and girls alike swooning.

"That guy is one serious bad-ass."

It was true. On the back of Freddie's leather jacket, it actually said 'One Serious Bad-Ass.'

Emotions were flurrying through Freddie's chest as the entrance drew closer and closer. He was so sure when he set out this morning that this was going to be his day, but now the first inklings of doubt were presenting themselves. His legs felt like jelly when he went up the steps. _This is it. My big moment's finally here._

Freddie hesitated when he reached the doors. For some reason, he couldn't help but notice their pale brown color. He took a deep breath. _It's been so long. Will we still even be on the same wavelength? Will we connect, the way we used to? _Deciding that it was now or never, Freddie opened the double-doors and stepped inside.

His entrance was palpable. It was just like in the movies, when at long last the old comrade returns home, a changed man. Whispers, stares and catcalls followed Freddie down the lockers. Things like 'Who's the stud?' and 'Is that Benson?' were frequently heard. The man they saw going by was wearing an unzipped black leather jacket, a solid white shirt, dark blue jeans with metal chains flanking his waistline, and black leather boots. On his hands were matching black leather gloves that let the fingers pop through, and on his neck and wrists were spike-studded collars and wristbands. It was truly a moment where a soul-stirring guitar solo filled the atmosphere.

All of a sudden, the hall went silent. Freddie narrowed his eyes as he saw what, or rather who was at the center of this. He froze in place. The girl was causing a rather similar scene as she ambled toward him. The steady _click-click_ of her heels echoed intimidatingly. She probably came up to his shoulder, with long, curly golden hair, sensuous blood-red lips, and piercing green eyes. She had on tight capris that hugged all the curves just right, and a bright red shirt with the letters 'Ma' on the left side and 'ma' on the right.

When she reached Freddie, she stopped. The silence was crushing as the two stared at each other. After what seemed like en eternity, the girl planted her hands on her hips and smiled boldly.

"Uh, do you know where Sam is?" Rebecca Berkowitz relaxed her stance. She nodded genially at Freddie.

"Yeah, she's right over there." Rebecca gestured behind her, where, oblivious to all that was happening, Sam was fiddling with the lock on her locker. Freddie felt a weight drop in the pit his stomach when he saw the blonde.

"Whoa," he breathed. In contrast to Rebecca, Sam was thinner, much less curvy, and wearing a stupid grey trench coat, but Freddie didn't care. He thought she outshone the others by light-years.

Freddie inhaled deeply. _Here we go. The moment of truth. _Mustering up all his courage, Freddie made his way over to Sam's locker. He leaned with one arm for support.

"Hey Sam." The blonde peered up at the source of the interruption. Her eyes widened.

"Freddie?" she exclaimed. Freddie grinned smugly at her. Her voice was high-pitched, just like it always used to be when she was genuinely surprised. Sam threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight squeeze. "Dude, I haven't seen you in like, forever!"

Freddie wrapped his own arms around Sam's upper torso. He smiled, drinking in the smell of a her golden locks, a scent that despite all the time he had never forgotten. She felt good. Sam felt good.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me you were coming doofbag?" Sam couldn't help herself. Her normal inhibitions went flying out the window as she tousled Freddie's now long brown hair.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Freddie said.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked. "What's all this?" She brushed Freddie's stubbly goatee with her fingertips.

"Hey, stop that!" Freddie playfully batted Sam's fingers away. His expression quickly changed into one of concern however when he saw Sam suddenly quiet down. Her hands went to her sides as she stared at the ground. A frown seemed to have taken over her features. Sam then lifted her head, locking gazes with Freddie.

"Listen, Freddie," she began, sounding reluctant. She resumed staring at the ground. "A lot has changed since you left."

"I know!" Freddie replied, trying to lighten the mood. "I have so much to tell you. You won't believe what I've been through since we last saw each other."

"No, not that," Sam said. She eyed him briefly and gave a small smile. "You look great. No Freddie, it's just, I've been through some changes as well."

It was Freddie's turn to frown. "What changes? I mean, you look just the same way you always did."

Sam formed a sad smile. With reticence, with almost pained movement, Sam undid the many buttons of her trench coat. When she revealed what was underneath, the results stunned Freddie like a physical blow.

"You got them done?" Sam immediately shut her coat, blushing furiously.

"Sorry, wrong buttons." Once she had collected herself, Sam slowly opened her coat once more.

Freddie didn't know what to do at first. There it was, staring him straight in the face. Unable to move, he struggled to remain impassive. Try as a might though, his lids brimmed threateningly with tears.

"You..." He trailed off, worried he might break. Of all the things, he hadn't been expecting this. "You...you've gone girly again."

Sam nodded mournfully. Her own eyes reflected sheer watery sorrow. She had on a frilly lavender blouse, a light salmon-colored pleated skirt, and pale green nylons with tiny little duckies on them. It was too much. Freddie's upper lip trembled with the effort of holding back. His throat panged. What had once been powerful rock music had become a gut-wrenching ballad.

"So," he squeaked, now a broken man. "Y-you don't like, t-tough guys anymore?" It was ruined. Everything was ruined. The only reason he had gone bad, his whole motivation, it had all been for her.

"No, I still like tough guys," Sam wheezed. She shut her eyes tightly. "But I've changed. I'm not who I used to be. And there's more."

"More?" Freddie felt his heart ripping in half. There was only so much a man could take.

"Yes. There's...Giuseppe." Freddie's eyebrows furrowed.

"Giuseppe?"

"Yes, Giuseppe," a third, elegant voice said. A tall, handsome boy about Sam and Freddie's age came strolling into view. He leaned against the locker next Freddie, fixing him up with an arrogant stare. "Giuseppe Antoniono, de Marco Olivera Mancini Arollo–" Freddie's head was starting to spin "–Agosto Brugetti-meister. The Third."

Giuseppe noted the pained expression on Freddie's face. "Just call me Doug." Freddie's eyebrows rose a second time.

"But I thought the nickname for Giuseppe was 'Joe.'" Giuseppe's jawline hardened.

"I _know_, but I rather be called Doug." Freddie's fists were gripping Giuseppe's shirt a second later.

"I don't care if your name's Frodo Baggins! Sam was my girl first and so knock it off!" Giuseppe grabbed hold of Freddie's arms, sneering coldly.

"Sam never was your girl! She told me all about you _Benson_! You had your chance, and you were this close." Giuseppe put two fingers close together in front of Freddie's nose. "But you left. She needed someone and I was there. _I _was there, not you!"

"Well only one of us is going to be there for her now." Freddie released Giuseppe and flung off his leather jacket, revealing bulging biceps with twin rattlesnake tattoos. Quite a crowd was currently forming around them. Behind the two combatants, Sam was biting her fingernails nervously. She could feel raging metal music assaulting her ears.

"Come and get it," Giuseppe rasped. He crossed his arms diagonally in front of himself. "I'll give you a pretty little scar to add to your collection." Freddie spread his lips in a thin grin.

"Oh, do they bother you?" His eyes reduced to slits. "Wanna know how I got them?"

"Hey, what's going on?"

The momentous fight that was about to take place between Freddie and Giuseppe halted right then and there. Carly marched onto battlefield and eyed Freddie, then Sam irritably.

"I said 'what's going on?'"

"We're catching up," Freddie said. He gave Sam a deep, serious look. "It's been a really long time since we last saw each other." Freddie turned to Carly. "Since I last either of you...Carly Shay."

Carly shook her head. "Yeah, it was a camping trip Freddie. You were gone for two days." Carly grabbed Sam and Freddie by the scruffs of their necks and started dragging them down the halls. Literally.

"Now come on, Mr. Henning will kill us if we're late for class again."

Sam and Freddie hung helplessly as Carly towed them to their first period biology class. They stared idly at the moving floor, neither sure what to say following the heavy emotional expenditure that had occurred between them. Not knowing what else to do, Freddie sighed and gazed at Sam.

"So, does he treat you well?" Freddie motioned at Giuseppe, who was waving at them.

"Yeah, he does," Sam admitted. She bit her lower lip. "Listen Freddie I'm sorry, but he really was there for me while you were away." Freddie gritted his teeth. "And I _have_ changed. I'm not the tough girl you used to knew way back when." Freddie tilted his head away. He couldn't bear to look at Sam right now. "Our roles have kind of reversed I guess." Sam chuckled. She put her hand on Freddie's. "But no matter what, I want us to always to remain friends. Okay?"

Freddie curled his free hand into a fist. _No, it's not okay Sam_. Discreetly, he snuck a peak at her. His heart flipped in his chest. Truly, she had only gotten more beautiful as the days went by. Freddie clenched his fist together even more tightly. _I went through too much to get to where I am now. My feelings only grew stronger since we were last together. No Sam, I swear, as God as my witness, we'll be together. I promise_.

Fresh tears rolled down Freddie's cheeks as he forced his lips into a determined smile. He could feel his old winning spirit returning, that powerful, soul-stirring music roaring back to life. _I promise_.

"Gibby!" Carly snapped. She eyed the shirtless boy like a venomous viper.

Bowing his head, Gibby sadly put his guitar and the amplifier that went along with it back in his locker.

**AN: Shall I continue?**

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, its characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**


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